The Hammer's Song, A Master's Eye
The workshop chamber hummed with focused energy. Yao Xuan led his team inside, their footsteps echoing on the polished floor. His eyes scanned the categorized workstations and settled on the forging section, where a gray-haired examiner sat with a watchful, if somewhat bored, expression.
'Feng Wuyu's disciple presiding… makes sense. The Saint Craftsman himself is too… unpredictable for formal examination duties,' Yao Xuan mused, a flicker of recognition passing through his mind.
Without fanfare, he approached a vacant forging station. The motions were second nature: igniting the soul furnace, testing the heft of the provided hammers—finding one that resonated with a faint spiritual hum, a basic Spirit Forging model—and selecting a block of fine-grained Refined Gold from the storage bin.
He began.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG-CLANG-CLANG.
The rhythm was not just strike after strike; it was a language. His control was so refined, his understanding of the metal's response so deep, that the Hundred Refinements were achieved in five perfectly measured, echoing blows. Then, his hands became a blur. Twin hammers rose and fell in a controlled storm, each impact precise, each reverberation building upon the last. The metal sang under this onslaught, its impurities fleeing in showers of bright sparks.
On the thirty-sixth hammer, a pillar of pure golden light erupted from the anvil, roaring a full meter into the air—a silent, brilliant announcement.
Thousand Refinements, First Grade.
The gray-haired examiner, who had been leaning back in his chair, snapped upright. His bored expression vanished, replaced by keen interest. 'Such efficiency! Such flawless rhythm! This isn't just skill; it's artistry.'
Then, his eyes bulged. Yao Xuan did not pause to admire his work. The Ancestral Dragon Martial Soul materialized behind him with a silent, majestic presence. Yao Xuan's soul power, tinged with the pale sheen of his bloodline, flowed down the hafts of the hammers and into the glowing metal. He was not just shaping it anymore; he was communing with it, guiding its latent spirit toward awakening.
"By the gods… Spirit Forging?!" the examiner whispered, the words a shocked exhale. He fumbled for the soul communication device at his station, his hands unsteady. "Elder Feng! You need to come to Assessment Hall Four, immediately! A freshman candidate… he's performing Spirit Forging!"
The response from the other end was a wordless, staticky shout of disbelief, followed by the click of a severed connection.
Unaware of—or unconcerned by—the commotion he was causing, Yao Xuan continued. For him, this was the culmination of over two years of daily discipline under Mu Chen's stern guidance. While he hadn't yet breached the official threshold of Level 6 by mastering first-grade Spirit-Forged alloys, the act of Spirit Forging pure metals was now a reliable craft. His success rate was near perfect, his control absolute.
Five minutes later, the main doors to the hall slammed open. A man with wild, fiery red hair and intense eyes burst in—Feng Wuyu, the Saint Craftsman of Shrek. He ignored the examiner's hushed greeting, his gaze laser-locked on the young man at the forging station.
"Incredible…" Feng Wuyu breathed, creeping closer without making a sound that might break Yao Xuan's concentration. "The flow of soul power, the spiritual coaxing… he's not forcing life; he's inviting it. And at his age… a ninety percent chance of success? A prodigy. An absolute prodigy!"
Yao Xuan felt the powerful, scrutinizing presence behind him but didn't flinch. His world had narrowed to the dialogue between his will and the metal's nascent consciousness. He nurtured it, offered it stability and purpose through his own spiritual fortitude.
An hour passed in what felt like moments. Then, a shift. The metal's resonance reached a peak. Yao Xuan's eyes flashed with nine-colored light. With a final, thunderous double-handed strike that seemed to seal a pact, he brought the process to its climax.
BOOM!
A column of light—gold intertwined with strands of pale rainbow—shot upward, nearly two meters tall. Within its core, a tiny, serpentine phantom of a nine-colored dragon coiled and swam, emitting a pulse of vibrant, joyful life.
Spirit Forging, complete. Third Grade.
Before the light had fully faded, a heavy hand clapped onto Yao Xuan's shoulder. Feng Wuyu spun him around, snatching the still-warm metal from the anvil with his other hand. The Saint Craftsman's face was alight with fierce, unrestrained joy. "HAH! Spirit Forging! True Spirit Forging, and third grade at that! A successor! I've finally found one!"
Yao Xuan, catching his breath from the exertion, blinked up at the exuberant man. "Senior, you are…?"
"Right, right! Feng Wuyu! Eighth-Rank Saint Craftsman, head of the Shrek Academy Forging Association!" he declared, his voice booming in the now-silent hall. Every other examinee had stopped to watch. "With this showing, the rest of these tests are a formality! You're in! More than that—I'm taking you on as my personal disciple. Effective immediately!"
Yao Xuan offered a respectful, if weary, bow. "The honor is immense, Senior Feng. However, I must be truthful. I already have a forging master: President Mu Chen of the East Sea City Forging Association."
Feng Wuyu's exuberance faltered for a second, replaced by a frown. "Mu Chen? That kid?" He scratched his wild red hair. "No wonder he applied for a transfer here… The luck on that fellow!" His expression cleared, turning shrewd. "Tell you what. We'll table the official master-disciple talk. When Mu Chen arrives, I'll have a word with him. A Title Douluo's persuasion carries weight, and he's only a Soul Douluo, and an externally-aided one at that." To emphasize his point, he flared his soul power momentarily. Four purple, four black, and one breathtaking red soul ring materialized behind him, a testament to his monstrous power.
Yao Xuan's eyes widened with perfectly performed admiration. "A Title Douluo! Your prowess is legendary, Senior."
"Damn right it is!" Feng Wuyu grinned, but then his gaze shifted past Yao Xuan to where Gu Yue, Tang Wulin, and the others stood waiting. His expression softened a fraction. "Your companions?"
"I would see their assessments through, Senior," Yao Xuan said, his voice firm. "We entered together."
Feng Wuyu studied him for a moment, then nodded, a grunt of approval in his throat. "Loyalty. Good. That matters more than just a clever hammer sometimes. Fine. Finish your exams. But you come straight to the Forging Association after. Understood?" He tossed the piece of Spirit-Forged Refined Gold back to Yao Xuan, who caught it neatly, feeling its warm, living pulse against his palm.
With a final, appraising look that took in the entire remarkable group, the Saint Craftsman turned and strode out, his mind already racing with plans. Yao Xuan watched him go, then turned back to his friends. Gu Yue met his eyes, a subtle, proud smile touching her lips—a silent communication that spoke volumes. The path ahead was clear, and they would walk it together, one trial at a time.